Vivid
by Moon Witch '96
Summary: AU. She knew him as the terrified,sad little boy who just needed someone to hold him,the furious and hating teenager, ready to burn the world;she doesn't know this cocky man with secrets&shadows in his eyes. She doesn't want to, all she wants to do is hide behind her lies & the vivid things rushing from her past of flames and screams. But he doesn't make it so easy. PleaseR&R
1. Prologue: Runaway

**Prologue: Runaway**

 _"Daddy's girl learned fast..."_

She stared at her, eyes hard and full of tears, though she could hardly tell because the rain was coming down too strong, and fell on them like bullets, each little drop a sting as they stared each other down. She was trembling in the cold, hood up, her short hair stringy and dry against her face, newly dyed. Even though it had been a couple of days since they had changed it, she swore she could smell the chemicals, cheaper that what she ever used before, even against the scent of heavy rain and smog in the air.

Amanda hands thrusts the suitcase at her; a beat up old thing that hardly weighs like anything, and she stumble back at the force. She looks to the older woman with desperate eyes, trying to will her to forgive her, _even if she knows she doesn't deserve her forgiveness, even if she knows that it's all her fault-_

"Get on, don't talk to anyone. Find your dorm and try not to make a fuss."Amanda snaps at her, glaring, trembling with her anger, with her grief and with who knows what else.

She hesitates, eyes flickering to the bus and then back to the furious woman in front of her.

"I'm sorry."she whispers, and she knows it's not enough. _It will never be enough._

"Get out of here... V- Ava."she says flatly, stumbling slightly, her breathe hitching slightly as she says the name.

Then she gives her one last burning look, and turns around. She doesn't look back, and Ava doesn't really expect her to. She simply picks up the suitcase, steps back, and runs to the bus. The driver is annoyed at her drenched state, but she doesn't look at him or care, trembling in the onslaught of the AC, but not quite feeling it either. All she feels is numb, even as she a kind woman gives her a blanket, even as she wraps it around herself and watch Gotham fall behind her.

Even as the memories of fire and screams fill her head.


	2. American Oxygen

**American Oxygen**

" _We sweat for a nickel and a dime... Turn it into an empire_ _  
_ _Breathe in, this feeling..._ _",_ _Rhianna_

 _Ten Years Later_

If there was anything that was true about the one of he tallest young women sitting in the waiting room, foot tapping in a jittery mess, was that she wasn't suppose to be there. She was in a neatly pressed suit like the rest of the people around her, sure, hair neat, pulled away from her young face, and waiting as the rest with a polite mask of indifference. But her suit was a little out of date, not quite enough to be fashionable or chic, contrasting to the modern or vintage cuts around her. It looked well cared for, as if she had bought it straight out of thrift shop, and done her best to fix it up herself. She was exceptionally young, nervous and practically vibrating with it. Most of the people around her looked to be roughly in their late twenties, early thirties, and kept a cool facade of professionalism. She looked like she had just turned twenty, not quite out of being a teenager, with a fidgety demeanor that spoke of inexperience.

"Ava King."said a friendly, chipper voice, and the young woman jumped, before she took a breathe and stood. The secretary who had called was smiling politely, black portfolio in hand and was waiting to lead her past the large, imposing door.

She followed into the smaller hallway, taking the portfolio when it was offered, and trying to match the quick, easy steps the shorter and older woman had. She was all awkwardness, long legs and feet that didn't quite seem to listen to her. _Or maybe it was my nerves,_ she thought, hands clenching around her portfolio in a vice grip.

"Nice to meet you."said the younger woman, pushing back a strand of her vivid hair behind her ear, offering her free hand as they got to another door. It was just as imposing as the last; larger than any door had a sense to be and made of dark, deep wood.

Ava half expected it to have inscribed 'Abandon hope all who enter' in a golden plaque, and found herself looking for it. The older woman, blinked, but smiled at her words, and returned the sentiment. They clasped hands quickly and firmly.

"I never did catch your name."she told her, staling for time as she adjusted her skirt.

"Jessica Smith, and don't worry," here the older woman grinned, dark eyes sparkling, face full of light, "he doesn't bite most days."

With that lovely piece of advice, she was ushered in, the door shutting quietly, but what seemed to be a foreboding click behind her. She took another deep, settling breathe, and walked forward with what she hope looked like purpose. The man in a large, surprisingly beat up chair smiled at her, and stood as she reached over to shake his hand. It was a firm shake, on both their parts she hoped.

"Hello Ms. King, welcome to Wayne Enterprises."he, his voice, calm and easy settling her nerves somewhat. But not by much.

"Pleasure to be here, Mr. Fox."she lied lightly, her stomach twisting, because honestly she wanted to be anywhere but here. But both her own curiosity and stupidity brought her here, so all she could do was take a seat and try not to follow the urge to sprint from the room.

"How was the trip, I understand you currently live in Metropolis?"

Before she could stop herself, she shrugged.

"About as pleasant as any two hour bus ride can be I guess."she said this timidly, but honestly. She bent her head forward to hid her face, a reflex that she had held for ten years. It was so automatic that she didn't even notice she had done it.

It was only until her glasses slipped down her nose did she straighten up and force herself to look at Lucious Fox in the face. She was wasn't quite able to look him directly in the eye, that too a habit she was hard pressed to break, her eyes flickered around, and she had to force herself to not curl into herself under the weight of his gaze. She reached up to slid her glasses back into place, just to do something with her hands, squinting at the glare of the false lenses. She didn't really need them, but the clunky pair did hide her face somewhat, and that was why she had bought them in the first place.

"Ah. A bit of pain, then?"here, Fox's dark eyes seem light up in amusement when she managed to look into them for a roughly five seconds.

Despite herself, she found herself smiling.

"Yes."she said, her timid nature and nerves subsiding a little more. But her eyes still flickered to the side.

Lucius Fox tended to have that affect on people, she mused, watching as he gestured for the portfolio, and she hand it over. He flipped through it carefully, but quickly, and she wondered how many times he had done so today. Her own interview was late in the day, it was five and there was well over a dozen people in the waiting room yet.

They, she thought with a twist of her stomach, had been invited here just as she had. The position was an invitation only interview, and from what she could tell, Wayne Enterprises had done their research thoroughly. Enough at least to find a recent, unemployed graduate like herself. She wondered what the hell had warranted her being in that same sort of list with the people outside.

They, from the conversation she had heard them had, had all worked in large companies for years. She had no work experience other than internships and her waitress job. She hadn't been more than a glorified gofer really, fetching coffee and tools since she wasn't allowed to even witness projects too closely. While she had worked on some things, it had been all supervised and on things that were not up for market or new. In other words she was not exactly what the position the man across from her had invented for reasons unknown.

But here she was anyway, sitting across from one of the most powerful men in the county, if the not the world, in a place that she had sworn to never, ever return to. She didn't understand her impulse for coming here, nor the impulse to stay in the city for more than five seconds before she bought an express bus back to Metropolis.

"I understand you recently interned at Luther Corp."said Mr. Fox, and she blinked, pulled out of her wandering thoughts.

"Yes. In their Robotics division."she replied, remembering faintly and bitterly that she had hardly been allowed to touch anything. Other than the junk heap, where her 'mentor' had insisted on seeing what she could do with it.

She wasn't a genius, junk was junk. Or well, since it was mostly melted she couldn't really do anything with it. Give her a few bits and pieces of scrap and maybe she could whip something together, but not with melted shit.

"You spent most of your last semester, alternating between departments and companies, in fact you did some for my company in the smaller office in Metropolis, ah, it was biochemistry this time. The same could be said for all your semesters since you switched your major."he said smoothly, fingertips intertwining as he peered at her.

At the mention of switching majors, Ava felt herself flood with guilt, but pushed that aside and shrugged at the older man in front of her.

"There was a lot of openings and opportunities, and I made sure to apply for as many as I could. The job market is rough, and I'm not really narrowed to a specific field quite yet."she replied.

"Despite your recent graduation, you claim that you don't have a field?"he asked, and at this his brow raised and his lips pursed.

Again, despite herself, Ava shurgged.

"I like a lot of fields. I switched my major once, and couldn't even focus on my second choice so I double majored, and then I doubled minored. I've spent 10 years in college. I'm not exactly decisive or talented in anything in particular."

"You're also not in the position to be picky about a job."he said, and here he raised a brow.

Again, Ava couldn't help but shrug.

"I know that perfectly well. Student loans are not to be laughed at. Otherwise, I wouldn't be sitting across from you."

"And why is that?"

"I... I-I I don't see... Ww-why that is any of your business or connected to the interview. It's personal. I never expected to return to Gotham, let's leave it at that."

He looked at her for a beat, and she felt her hands tremble at the force she was using to clench them. His eyes were steady and unreadable, and Ava felt as if he was staring straight into her. Past her mask, past her her trembling. And he seemed to see her, and he seemed to feel the invisible line that he had crossed.

"Curiosity, Ms. King, I find it to be my greatest strength. And weakness. I apologize, I overstepped myself."

"Apology accepted. And I won't fault you for it, I am curious to a fault as well."she confessed, and she even manages to smile.

It occurs to her, despite her better judgment, that both curiosity and the money had been what had brought her here. A mysterious new sub-division of the Applied Sciences that was headed by the man at the helm, Lucious Fox's brain child. She was a fan of Fox, liked his work and enjoyed his dry humor in any papers he wrote, which were few and far between. She didn't know why she was there, why she was answering his plain and almost generic questions. It's half-way through the interview that it occurs for her to leave, noting the steely determination in his eyes, the firmness of his voice as he describes what the head of this new division would do.

He wanted someone good for this, someone who could help take Wayne Enterprises to he next level.

Was she that person?

Her fingers twitched and she licked her lips. Her gaze moved past Mr. Fox, beyond the large near panoramic view of the skyline of Gotham. The skyline she had left ten years ago had changed little, the stark towering structures she saw in the floor length windows around her were the same dark and Gothic monsters that she had loved as a child. Currently the noon sun was casting huge, deep shadows that hide some of the shorter, older buildings, and gave a large contrast to the few newer, glass covered giants. The curling smog around the windows however, was something she hadn't missed since her time away. Watching as the yellow fog curled around the stain glass windows and stone gargoyles made her frown. When she had gotten off the charter bus, she had nearly choked on the pungent smell and the taste of it, but she had readily adjusted to the air of her childhood.

Could she stay here?

"Ms. King?"says Mr. Fox, and she starts, eyes flickering back and meeting his for a fraction of second before she ducks her head.

"I'm sorry, I… I haven't see the city in a long time."she says softly, and already knowing that she really has no real shot, she gets up, walking away from her idol.

The city is old and dingy in comparison to Metropolis, but it lived more, it has survived so much. A couple months back it had suffered a terrorist attack, but still it huddled through. Her hand touches the glass, cool and she wants to cry because she remembers being in this very room before, Bruce having his finger-tips to his lips, and they scrambled underneath his father's desk as they heard Thomas Wayne roar, 'Ready or not, here I come!'. She smiles instead, pushing that aside as she takes a deep breathe, and feels the man come around her left side.

She flinches at his closeness, but doesn't jump away, and she finds that a plus.

"Beautiful place, Gotham."he says, and his voice is soft and pleasant.

"It is."she mentions, before she takes another deep breathe, and turns to the smiling man, "I'm so sorry Mister Fox, it seems that I have completely wasted you're time."

He blinks, and quirks a brow.

"How so, Ms. King?"

"You need some with experience. You need someone who has a determination to match your's to get this department established. You need someone who will take your ideas and help you take them to the next. I don't think someone fresh out of college has what you need."

"You're an honest person."he says, and he's frowning.

"I'm flattered that I got the interview, and just the invite will make other companies look at me, so thanks. But I don't want to waste you're time."she says with a shrug, and she extends her hand.

The man looks at it, smiling.

"Thank you, Ms. King. This has been most enlightening."

"It's been a pleasure to met you, Mr. Fox."

And she shakes his hand, and leaves the office with her head held high because she might not have gotten the job, but she's back in Gotham, even for a little while, and that's enough to make her feel lighter. It doesn't stop her from taking the stairs down to avoid people, or her pounding heart as she emerges out side of Wayne Tower. She breathes deep, the smell of smog hitting her like physical blow. If she closes her eyes, its as if she's fourteen again, in a dark alley behind the Tower that could be like any dark alley in the city. Taking off her suit jacket and shoving on some sneakers to get out of her low heels, Ava starts to run, hands reaching for her tazor, just in case, headed in the general direction of newly rebuilt Gotham Metro.

….

"So Mr. Wayne, what do you think?"asked a Lucius Fox, spinning around to smile to said Mr. Wayne.

Bruce Wayne does not smile as her emerges from the cloest of Lucius' office, a copy of the resume and background check on the desk in his calloused hands. His face instead was set in a thoughtful blank, and opened the file to studied the face in the photograph with nearly flame producing intensity. He ignores the older man all together, sitting in the chair as he spills his copies onto the desk.

The young woman that barely looked twenty in the photograph was actually twenty-eight, he thought with faint disbelief. Ava King looked unreadable and serious though in the photograph, despite her young face. Her light green eyes, peeking at him from behind her thick, red frames are intent, much more intent then they had been in the entire interview. They made him stare intently at them, as if they could tell him what he needed to know by gazing into her eyes. Her deep red hair was a stark contrast to her pale skin, and her small, thin mouth was in a shy smile. Overall she looked to be a shy, reserved person.

She had hardly sat still throughout the whole interview, though, as if she expected a madman to come in wielding a gun bursting into Lucius office at any moment. He wondered faintly if he would have given the girl a heart attack if he had popped out of the shadows... The whole 'I'm talking the CEO of Wayne International' atmosphere must have gotten to her, he thought remembering as she had partially bolted from the room as soon as she could. Even the calm, friendly waves that Lucius Fox produced couldn't have calm a all around nervous person, especially at an interview for such a good position in his company...

"Twitchy."he said simply with a small twitch of his lips, flipping the page to look at her recommendations. They were mostly short and to the point, nothing personal in any of them. All were very detached, but no one had a bad word to say about King.

"Quite."said Lucius with a small huff of laughter.

The more he looked, the more Bruce found that there really was not a bad comment in the resume, other than the fact that it stated King as unsocial to a fault, only really ever seen with her roommate, a man she had met in college... She was Gotham born it said, to one Neil and Franny King in the Narrows... They had died when the girl was eighteen, and her older sister, the Forty-four year old Ameilia held a comfortable post in the Gotham Gazette, estranged. Or at least, Ava had not connected her sister for the nearly ten years she had been gone, and her sister hadn't either. She had no other close relations and had not contacted anyone in this city since she had left for Metropolis. Bruce could see why the girl had taken the out to go out of town, imaging the less than stellar life she must have experienced, Gotham was a tough town, especially in the Narrows, he knew this all too well...

But what had brought her back?

"Top of her class, both teachers and co-workers agree that she's a good, hard worker, if a little anti-social. Almost secretive."said Lucius. He was smiling again, flipping through the pages, rereading what he must have read a million times. Bruce knew he himself had.

"No close friends other than her roommate... This girl is..."said Bruce, looking intensely at the picture again.

"Someone who could become a major asset to the company."said Lucius, carefully closing her resume, turning to face his boss.

When Bruce Wayne looked over to him sharply, Lucius simply smiled, and leaned forward, hands on his mouth and elbows on his knees.

"A young woman with no lasting connections to anywhere, mostly isolated and competent with her work. Overall I believe that means that even if she did discover something about your... Adventures, she won't be able to tell anyone who would believe her. Besides Mr. Wayne, she was the only one who didn't try to kiss my derriere during the interview."he said, a little of his dry humor coming out at the end.

Bruce sighed. It seemed as if Mr. Fox had taken a liking to Miss King.

"I'll consider her then... After I introduce her to what she missed in Gotham."he said simply, placing the resume on Lucius' desk and making for the door.

"Try not to traumatize the girl."called Lucius after him.

Bruce Wayne simply waved over his back at him without turning. It's not as if he was going to swoop in as Batman and kidnap her to give his own version of an interview. He snorted at the thought, knowing his plan was much more benign than that.

Traumatize indeed.

She was jumpy enough.


	3. Dead Girl Walking

**Dead Girl Walking**

" _Bow down to the will of a dead girl walking! And you know, you know, you know. It's 'cause you're beautiful. You say you're numb inside, But I can't agree. So the world's unfair, Keep it locked out there… In here it's beautiful. Let's make this beautiful!" Dead Girl Walking, Heathers,_ 2014

Ava King was sitting on the steps of Wayne Tower, hands in her lap. She had run for a fraction of second before she had given up and sat down to take in the skyline of her childhood. She knows she should run, head back to the bus station or even catch a ride on the train back to the station, maybe take a trip around Gotham to see the city that had been her childhood home. Take that as a safer, nostalgic fulfillment instead of sitting in downtown Gotham on the steps of the company owned by one of the few people in the world who _might_ recognize her. She shouldn't be out in the open, where people can take a good look at her, past her glasses, past her the hair in her face and her old suit. The jacket hangs around her waist now, silk blouse open and revealing the tank top beneath, her hair is loose and out of the bun she had stuffed it in. Her only pair of heels, kitten pumps that add two inches to her already substantial height, are in her carry on, and old, faded chucks with oil stains adorn her feet.

She feels somewhat normal, and much more comfortable, even in the shadow of Wayne Tower.

Gotham isn't like Metropolis. People don't stop to talk to her to make sure the woman on the steps is alright. Most don't even glance in her direction more than a second, too intent on ignoring her or too intent on themselves… She appreciates this, relishes the thought of being able to be left alone after that disastrous turn of events. She can't say that she wanted to work for Wayne Enterprises. After all, that was the exact opposite of being removed from her old life. But at the same time, the prestige and frankly the money had lured her in and made her hope that she could catch a glimpse of someone from the life she had left behind ten years ago.

"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to leave the property."

Ava looks back to the voice, a man in a full security gear. She smiles ruefully.

"Right, sorry, didn't mean to be a bother."

She gets up, dust off her skirt, and gives a shrug at the man.

"Sorry to loiter. Have a good day."she mentions, a half smile stretching across her face tiredly.

The security officer offers her a polite nod, and a slight appreciated small smile appearing on his lips. She gets her carry on and starts heading towards the entrance Station at the base of the Tower, trying to take in as much as the skyline in the quickly darkening sky memorized as she could. Pictures can't capture what her eyes can, can't give her that little knot of homesickness in her throat. She takes it deeply, relishing it before she ducks into the station.

The station under Wayne tower is brightly lit and surprisingly clean she notes. On her way out she had not paid much attention to that, worry and nerves of what she had been doing eating at her and pushing her forward in a haze. Now that all the pressure and stress of the interview is gone, she can take that in. Wayne industries' philanthropic baby pretty much had recovered fairly quickly after basically being destroyed. She gets on the train that goes around the city and settles in for a long trip. Her phone goes off, and she scrambles for it.

"Hello?"

"Ava, did you go to the store to binge on sweet condensed milk? I know you're a little bummed that Bud at the warehouse let you go but come on, you get to work double shifts at the diner now and you like the dinner better anyhow." comes the calm voice of her room-mate. It's soothing, makes her tense shoulder drop.

She flinches anyway, the slight concern she hears in his voice immediately making her guilty. This is a man who pretty much took her in after a disastrous turn of events involving a malfunctioning hair dryer in her dorm when she came to Metropolis University. It had started as a gentlemanly thing, giving her his bed while she tried to find some sort of living arrangement. She had been fifteen and scared, tired and terribly lonely. He had been eighteen, corn fed country boy with a heart of gold that had just wanted to help out a fellow student. Then they had discovered each other's deepest secrets. She was newly paranoid of the entire world, and he had x-ray vision. It hadn't been hard on either of their parts to figure out what was off about the other person:

 _Ava knows there's something off about her roommate. It's not just the fact that he is one of the most altruistic people she ever met; he gave up his bed in the small apartment he was renting near school to a girl he just met, crying on the steps of the dorm she was just kicked out of(She didn't know what she was going to say to her Marshal, she was supposed to be living a low profile, and that was the opposite of that). They had seen each other, both majoring in journalism and all, but hadn't really talked in classes two hundred strong. But still, he had taken one look at her, draped his jacket over her shoulders and sat next to her. Not even an hour later of hearing her misfortune and somehow she had been coaxed into coming home with him._

 _He had listened to her, shown her that his door locked and said goodnight before heading towards the pitifully short couch. Now, after it somehow becoming nearly a year and neither them addressing the fact that they had started paying rent together months ago, in such small quarters, she knew something was up with him._

 _Just as surely as he knew how there was something not quite right with her._

 _He had, after all, been the one to convince her that she should change her major when he noticed how unhappy she was. Surely he could tell that she was younger than she supposedly was, or that she hadn't had the chance to finish high school before she had been shipped off to Metropolis. She squinted at him as he came in from his late class, looking exhausted and 'lugging' his large bag of books inside._

 _She knew he was much stronger than that. She had seen the way he had shifted a car away from the line of traffic. It had been just a nudge on his part, but she had been watching him from the dinner window near the end of her shift. His mother taught him better, he would tell her, and promptly pick her up when she worked late weekends. That and the fact that he had strange quirks that she couldn't just dismiss as a country boy in the city._

" _My secret is that I'm in the witness protection program after my father turned out to be a mob boss that the FBI can't pin down ." she had blurted out, and Clark Kent had blinked, mouth gaping as he dropped his bag._

 _He had stared at her. She had felt her tears come to her eyes and she knew she shouldn't trust anyone after the events that had landed her assuming the identity of a dead girl in the first place, but Clark was different. All the Marshals warnings and stipulations for keeping her safe went out the window because of him. He was so genuinely good that she couldn't help_ _ **but**_ _trust him. And he had a secret, just like her, one she didn't know exactly but had to do with his abnormal strength and keen senses._

" _My secret is that … I… I'm an alien refugee, raised on earth after my planet exploded."he blinked, slapped a hand over his mouth._

 _She could see the sheer naked fear on his face as he confessed this, just as he had seen it on her's. It must have been why he had spoken in the first place. She extended a hand._

" _Vera Warren is my real name. Ava King was a girl's identity that… That I was allowed to take after she died. I caused her death, but her sister… She wanted to protect me."_

 _It was a weight off her chest to say it, she had_ _ **missed**_ _her name. Hated that she had to use the name of a dead girl to protect herself. Worse still by the fact that she had caused Ava's death. His hand came out, large and firm, covering her own long fingers easily._

" _Kal El is my birth name. My birth parents saved me by sending me off in a rocket in hopes that some part of Krypton would survive in me."_

 _They shook hands._

"Don't freak out."she blurts out, biting her lip.

Clark Kent doesn't speak, silently waiting for whatever she's going to say, but even from the distance, she can feel his worry. She doesn't blame him, he had been through a lot of her self-destructive behavior, so it was perfectly logical for him to jump to the worst conclusion. He had held her back when he could, been therapist and shoulder to cry, even held her hair back when she had gone through her party phase and throwing up all over his hand knitted blankets.

"I'm in Gotham." it comes out in a single breath, and her stomach twists.

" _Vera."_ he's panicking now, voice going funny as he says her real name.

She smiles faintly because of course, he wants to come to her rescue. He always does.

"Do you know that super secret interview Wayne Enterprise sent out?" she can remember his reaction when she opened the envelope marked with that familiar 'w' logo, freaking out as he read over her shoulder, "I came."

"Vera… did you see anyone?"

Oh, how his voice goes gentle reminds her that he is one of the most genuinely good souls left in the universe. She sighs and rubs her forehead.

"No, no I didn't." she can't keep the bitterness out. The interview hadn't been solely about the opportunity or curiosity.

If she had seen one person, she would have been worth this whole stupid idea to Gotham. Even if she was breaking the rules to the nth degree for even coming as far as BloodRaven City… But she supposes that she just have to live with seeing the city she grew up in instead. She looks out through the windows of the train, the glistening, fiery oranges bouncing off the gothic giants of the city. She wonders what would happen if she shows up at the Gotham Gazette, how much Amelia would want to kill her. Or her personal Marshal, Owen Braddy. She winces at the wayward thought.

"I'm coming for you, now."

She huffs.

"And what do you think that will accomplish, Clark?" she purses her lips.

She can image it, him swooping in to rescue her flying through the sky. Idiotic, she thinks, not thinking of the consequences because of his blinding need to help people. But that was Clark Kent in a nutshell, idealistic and just _good_ to the core. And with a slight tendency to leap before he looked. She's much more of a realist, much more cynical of the world. She, more often than not, would be to occupied with looking to take the time to leap. They balanced each other that way, and she couldn't ask for a more precious friend.

"Vera…"he sounds worried, but that's what she expected.

"Come on, just… give me some space. I got this." she tries to be confident in her tone, to ease the worry that her roommate feels for her.

It's hard because Clark carries the world on his shoulders. She _adores_ him for that, but it doesn't mean that she doesn't resent him for that, too. She was the one watching with bated breath to see if she was going to call Martha Kent to tell her son didn't make it. She was not his keeper nor his lover as so many assumed, and he was not her's, but they supported each other in wake of their share life of living behind a layer of secrets and distance from people around them. They were the best of friends. Intimate and knew each other inside out.

"Owen is going to kill you."

She sighed, pinching her nose.

"I know."

 **000000000**

Bruce Wayne sat carefully next to his target. She was on the phone. Stupid in a public place like this, such a distraction and just begging to be mugged. But then again, she had a tight hold on her large tote bag. On her lap. Folded up to be as small as possible and pressed tightly against her stomach. She remembered what kind of city Gotham could be, so she wasn't stupid, just a little careless.

"Owen knows that."said the young woman, lips pursed.

Bruce kept a careful eye on her out of his peripheral vision. She had let her hair down, he noted. He hadn't known it was that long, a messy mane that reached past her waist. It was such a strong shade of red, and judging by her roots, it was natural, or at the very least very expensive highlights. He doubted the later, her shoes, converse, he noted amused, oil stained and ragged, were obviously well worn. Second-hand suit, cheap purse, college graduate indeed. Poor girl was probably scrimping for every penny. Highlights were out of her pay grade.

"Yes I know he's going to want to kill me."she snapped, "But I had to okay? I had to at least check what the whole thing was about..."

She laughed, suddenly. It was light, and very soft chuckle that sounded suspiciously wet.

"Clark… I… Gotham is just as beautiful as I remember it."

Her gaze locks on the city rushing past them, and Bruce uses this opportunity to look her full on her face. Wistfulness, sheer wistfulness and something else he couldn't name.

"The sun is setting over the city, Clark."a tear slide down her cheek, "When Amelia dropped me off, I didn't look back. It was pouring and I was scared about what would happen as soon as I got to Metropolis."

She blinked, and then her long hand came up to rub at her eyes. She sniffed. The man, Clark, gave her a moment. When she took a deep breath, a mumbled voice on the phone went off.

"The interview?" she blinked again, surprise crossing her features, "Oh, I blew it. Completely and utterly, royally screwed it up."

Bruce somewhat agreed with her. The only thing she had done right was not annoy Lucious. A feat that most other interviewed had managed to pull off: It amazed Bruce that most of the interviewees had managed to actually annoy a man that was mostly unshakable and pleasant.

"I told him that I wasn't good enough for the position."

The girl laughed again, and it was much cheerier.

"He wants to make something big with this new special division. I'm not what he needs. He needs a strong devoted leader to make some waves. With genius like Lucious Fox, he deserves it!"

The girl paused, let the person on the line speak. Her eyes softened.

"I love you too, Clark. Thank you. Yes, you can call Owen. Much as I hate to say it I'd feel a hell of a lot safer if he was waiting for me when I got to the bus station." she smiled, "See you soon."

She hung up the phone, checking something quickly on it before she put it into the inside pocket of her suit. Suddenly, her gaze snapped toward him. Her hand quickly went to her skirt pocket, where he had spotted a lump, pepper spray?

"Spare any change ma'am."he said, and he made pains of slumping in his seat, grinning his artificial ragged teeth, stretching his dry, cracked lips for effect.

He ignored the itch of his fake beard best he could. She didn't relax, only blinked at him. Her eyes narrowed for a fraction of second, before she shook her head, and gave him a small smile.

"I'm sorry, I don't make it a habit of carrying loose money."she said it very gently, even if her eyes were firm and unmoving, analyzing him with an intensity that implied she was afraid, foot tapping.

Twitchy indeed.

"But I do have a sandwich. Would you like that instead?"

Bruce blinked, not expecting that, but rolled with it anyway. He lifted his hands, calloused, dirty and covered in frayed gloves to hide his carefully manicured hands(why Alfred insisted for that, he had no idea) and nodded in mock eagerly. She fished through her tote before she brought out a neat little container. She opened it, took out a sandwich, a bottle of water, and a bag of chips. Without hesitation, she gestured for him to take all of it, he 'eagerly' grabbed it. Bruce blinked again when she gave him an encouraging nod.

"God bless you."he muttered, "Thank you. God bless."

She smiled. She had a very nice smile, though Bruce, brought attention to her the fact that her deep red, lipstick was half chewed off, and the startling lightness of her green eyes.

"You're welcome."

With that, the young woman didn't speak again, just looked out at the city. Bruce ate the small meal in silence and watched her out of the corner of his eye as she watched the city. She then took out a huge leather bound book, heavy, stuffed with loose papers, and a started to draw on the graphed paper. She sketched for the remainder of the ride, and when Bruce thought her attention had lapsed enough, he took a glance at what she was doing.

The girl had re-imagined Fox's latest designs.

Most of her sketches were exact to the train's overall general structure, but the finer details had been heavily adjusted, and if he read correctly, this girl could make the whole thing work like a better, fine-tuned machine, at least in theory. Some of the finer notes of jargon were lost to him, and he made a mental note to ask Lucius. Her small, messy script was also nearly illegible, so he couldn't be sure what her notes meant exactly.

She suddenly closed the book, entire body tense, taunt. For a second he thought she was going to turn to him and ask him to stop staring, but she ignored him, her long finger hands clutching at the corners of the leather-bond book tightly. and she looked up, eyes flickering wildly about.

King then focused on the city again, breathing quickly and deeply through her nose. Her green eyes were wide behind her thick glasses, her left hand played with one of the rings on her left hand and her right foot was vibrating again, and she looked almost...

Vulnerable.

Her shoulders were slumped, pushed inwards and her face was set in an expression that looked both too jaded and innocent to be on the face of a twenty-eight-year-old woman. It was the type of expression of someone who had known pain. Ever slightly, the scale tipped slightly more in her favor, and through this little espionage, Bruce Wayne thought that it was most likely this girl would get some sort of job, maybe not the one she was interviewed for…

But she showed promise.

She stayed on the train as it did a complete circuit, and got off at the station near the bus station. Bruce stared after her. She had remained tense and uneasy the entire ride. But he couldn't blame her, Gotham was that type of town nowadays. But the fact that she had more than willingly shared her food with a vagrant stranger… Gotham needed more of that, not just a masked symbol, or white knights like Rachel or Dent.

But good people, ordinary, good people.


	4. Don't Worry

**Don't Worry Be Happy**

" _Don't worry, be happy, 'Cause when you worry your face will frown, And that will bring, everybody down, So don't worry, be happy. Don't worry, be happy now (Ooh, ooh ooh ooh oo-ooh ooh oo-ooh) don't worry. (Ooh, ooh ooh ooh oo-ooh ooh oo-ooh) be happy, " Bobby Mcferrin, 1988._

"Ms. King." Owen Braddy was what one expected from a government suit- Stockily-built, imposing and with a nondescript face that most would dismiss.

Vera Warren, under the alias of Ava King for the last ten years, knew Owen Braddy enough that his carefully blank face was hiding just how furious he was. She had been his case for ten years and being in his care had lent to her being able to read the man very well. She couldn't blame him. She was furious at herself. Ten years. Ten years and the only violation of the conditions of her new identity and protection she had done was tell Clark. Clark wasn't a problem: more than once he had saved her ass from herself. He had been her exception to the rule, and while Owen hadn't liked it when he initially found out, especially considering Clark's somewhat shady origins, he had quickly come around when he realized that he was helping her through her trauma.

However, this time it wasn't going to be the same sort of situation. Going to Wayne Industries was a problem, too much risk, and no payoff. It was too close to her old life… She would've never considered it, never would've gone at all because she knew the risks. And then that stupid envelope with the Wayne seal had come and she had run towards Gotham with not a second thought. It hadn't been smart, it hadn't been worth just seeing bits of her old life to risk her current one. And she knew that Owen thought this all and more.

"Ms. King," Owen repeated her assumed name as a distinct reminder of her state, eyes narrowing, "Do you have any idea how much danger you were in?"

Vera sighed, pushing back tears. They wouldn't do her any good, as much of a softy Owen was when she cried, she knew that he was absolutely right at the moment. She deserved this grilling, much as it made her want to curl up or run for the hills.

"Yes."

"Do you have any idea how your protection detail felt when you didn't show up for your scheduled check-in?"

She could imagine. Her check in was once every day at a park where she liked to take her lunch breaks in, every day at two o'clock, with this pretty, tall valley girl-esque woman named Tina. Tina was professional but undeniably kind. She had made an effort to befriend her in the last two years she had been her check in. She squinted at the haze of tears, taking off her false lenses so she could rub at her eyes.

"It was impulsive, stupid move, I know Owen… I'm... I'm sorry."

He was not impressed with her apology, but at the sight of her tears, his eyes softened.

"We're putting a full detail on you until we deem it safe. Two weeks, minimum."

She lifted her head, biting her lip to push away the protests coming to her mouth. But she knew he was right. So she gave an unhappy nod instead. She knew she wouldn't spot the detail at all, Owen's team was that good, but Clark would be put out at having to keep his… Talents more under wraps than usual. But she couldn't help that. They both would have to live with her consequences(she made a quick resolve to start baking, her usual way of begging for forgiveness).

"I am sorry, Owen," she said softly, as he stood up from the loveseat.

His brown eyes flickered to her, and he scratched absently at the side of his jaw,

"I know. I know," he said with the affection of a father, she swallowed slightly at his tone. He had known her since she was fourteen, and she knew that she was one of his youngest cases. The fact that he was a professional, she thinks, is the only thing that stops him from coming over and pulling her into her hug.

They weren't close, not really, but the older man had seen her grown up under his charge and she had seen him take care of her when she thought that no one could. That affected them no matter how much distance they tried to keep.

"You also have to check in the morning as well."

She liked her lips.

"There's a good bakery and coffee shop by the park, across from our usual Chinese place," she muttered, pushing her hair back slightly, "Tina could meet me at seven?"

He nods.

"I'll text you if it changes," he said, and he stopped for a fraction of a second on his way out.

Quickly, his large weathered hand goes to her head, and despite the fact that she is now twenty-four-years old, and towered over Owen, he patted her head. It was quick, and very soft little series of pats that ruffled her hair. He left without saying another word and she sighed, blinking rapidly at the tears in her eyes. She stared at the door for a second and slumped against the lazy-boy's back. A stray spring dug into her back, and she made a mental note into checking discount stores for a replacement. Or get Clark to punch it back into place.

"Is the Spanish Inquisition over?" said Clark cheerfully, coming out from his hiding place, the bathroom.

She sent him a look that had him chuckling.

"Your face will get stuck that way."

She sighed, pursing her lips at her alien friend. He was tall and very handsome, she thought, just like Bruce had been, but while there had always been a sternness at her friend from another life, Clark's face was open, easy to smile. He was all cornbread charm and despite the fact that he had been born on another planet, his boy next boy looks had always reminded her very strongly of the All-American type. He was just missing the blonde hair and the quarterback status.

"I hope it does. It'll remind you every day of the time I went and nearly went and got myself killed."

Clark sits across from her and smiles, a very soft thing that instantly melts the tension in her back. It helps when he removes his glasses, moving away from a strange headache she always got when he wore them. He sits, lacking an awkwardness, easy and free. They don't have to hide from each other when they are alone after all.

"But you didn't."

"But if I made one mistake-"

"You made none, from what I could tell. Other then panicking, but then again you tend to panic, especially in public."

She stares at Clark, at his earnestness and relaxes further.

"You are such a smartass."

Clark hums, a slight furrow in his brow. He never did like it when she swore, a side effect of being raised by slightly older parents, no doubt.

"You're projecting your frustration again," is his only response.

She smiles. He knew her so well.

"Okay, Spaceman," she smirks at the small frown she gets from the nickname she had given him when she was fifteen and had just found out, much to his continued chagrin over the name, "Smartass and super strength. And not to mention a handsome, All-American boy. Too much, you'll destroy our fragile human minds with your awesomeness."

Clark sighs.

"Vera, seriously, it'll be okay," he says, warmly, dismissing her defensive humor in the quiet, earnest way of his.

He only ever says her name, her real name when he is too worried or too proud. It was what he whispered in her ear at their graduation day when they had announced 'Ava King' to cross the stage. It was what he had screamed at her when she had came home at her worst, sixteen and shitfaced, holding a dirty needle and something she knew would send her through a spiral she would never get out of(she had wanted it, so badly, but he had stopped her, and she was never more grateful that he had saved her from it).

"Thank you, Kal," she responded, getting up and coming over to hug him, long arms draping over his hulking frame, "You're the best roommate to a psychologically fucked up girl."

It still amazes her, when he hugs her back, at how gentle his hold his. She had seen this man bench press a train car, fly through a mountain side by accident when he had just started out and yet he can still hold her, the breakable fleshy sack of bones with expert precision and care.

"And you're the best to an alien refugee."

She laughs, softly.

"I need to make that into a matching set of t-shirts."

Clark sighs.

"Don't. I already had to send the 'world's best alien' mug to my mother. She thought it was a hoot and a half."

Vera giggles, moves away from him, heart at ease with his calm reassurance.

"What did Jonathon think?"

Clark laughs.

"That he needs one that says, 'my son is out of this world'."

"I knew your parents loved me."

"Well that goes without saying," he says easily, rolling his eyes, he looks up at her, blue eyes sparkling, "They were always good at bringing home strays."

She hums in agreement, not taking offense at his statement. It was true enough.

"So, my stupid decisions aside, how did your interview at the Daily Planet go?"

To Vera's complete surprise, her best friend, the amazing Clark Kent/ Kal-El, blushes. Honest to God blushes, from the tip of his ears to his hairline. He wasn't shy, not really, just polite and had the tendency to stay quiet to listen to everything around him. But he wasn't shy, nor bashful.

"It went well. I got the job."

Vera knows her roommate very well and lifts a brow.

"Congratulations, Clark. You deserve that job," she says sincerely, before she pounces, "Now, why are you blushing as red as the tomatoes your folks sent up a few days ago?"

To her surprise, her roommate covers his face with his large hand.

"There was this woman- she- She called me Smallville when she figured out I had interned at the Crows Review back when I was in high school, when I said I was from there and then she started laughing when I said Ma'am to her. I'm supposed to shadow her until I get the ropes, but… Oh gosh, she's just too much."

Vera does a quick, mental checklist. Having once been a journalism major, not to mention being a roommate to a reporter, she knew her major players. Clark was in the area of the newspaper that made the front page, investigative and as far as she knew, only one woman manned that area like a queen at the Daily Planet. She was somewhat of a rival to Clark from his time spent at the Metropolis Daily, a smaller newspaper that had just recently been bought out.

She blinked.

"Clark, does Lois Lane intimidate you?"

His small groan is all she needs. She giggles.

"Oh my God, what is with you and double L names and super assertive women?'

"Lana has nothing to do with this-" he begins, hotly, as this was a standing issue, one of the only issues actually, that they couldn't agree on.

Lana Lang and Vera Warren, or Ava King to Ms. Double L herself did not get along. The second they had met, Vera knew she was going to hate the bright, fellow redhead. For one, Lana had broken Clark's heart just after he made the decision to tell her about his origins and for two, Lana thought that Ava King had replaced her place in Clark's heart. She didn't even love Clark anymore, she was just _petty_ , which did not endear her to Vera at all. It was just destiny that they would hate each other, but Clark always tried to keep the peace. Even when, in Vera's opinion, he had no reason too. Lana had moved on, set to marry Lex Luthor himself, a happy 'childhood friend' to one of the most amazing people Vera had ever met. Clark did not love Lana Lang anymore, but any wound to Vera's loved ones was asking for a violent hate like no other.

"Like hell, Spaceman. You think Lois is hot."

She delights in his red face. She also delights the only reason he had allowed the conversation to go into this direction because he knew she shouldn't dwell on what going to Gotham had done to her. Her roommate was selfless to the core, she muses as she made her way to the adjoining kitchen.

"Well, she is beautiful."

Vera hums.

"And something about strong, independent woman makes you go jelly-knees."

"You and my mother have been speaking on the phone again," he accuses.

Vera neither confirms nor denies. She only starts her blue-tooth speakers and selects her baking playlist, intent on making an apple crumble or pie. She needed to start begging for forgiveness after all, and she made a mental note to make something Vegan for Tina. Clark is behind her, already reaching for the apples when she puts on her apron, a knife in hand. He starts peeling without asking her a thing.

"It's conspiracy!" he says, hunched over their the bin meant for their compost, his hands are a blur, a literal blur as he peels apple after apple, "You and Ma don't have to get into discussions on what my knees do around strong, independent woman with double L initials."

Vera looks over her shoulder, smiles.

"That's called family, honey."

Despite his tone of voice or his red face, he's smiling. It's in ease and gentle agreement,

"Yeah, I suppose it is."

They spend the rest of the afternoon in comfortable, reassuring silence, filled by the crooning of jazz, blues, and RnB.


End file.
